


Variations on the Word Sleep

by evenso



Series: They Said It Better [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Margaret Atwood - Freeform, Romance, Season/Series 04, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/966975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenso/pseuds/evenso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel falls in love.  Then he falls.  Then he falls in love.  Then he falls into a routine.  Then he falls in love.</p>
<p>(Will be part of a set of three, each can stand alone.  This one is set in season 4.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on the Word Sleep

There is a strange and frustrating disconnect between a soul and the body with which it is most often associated.

No one knows Dean Winchester’s body better than Castiel, unless it is his Father. Dean does not even know himself the way Castiel does. To use a metaphor appropriate for one so attached to his car, Dean is the driver - but Castiel is the mechanic. The battle in Hell, and the return of this man’s soul, are the greatest accomplishments in Castiel’s long warrior life. He is proud of his achievement, and he finds himself somewhat protective of its result. Dean Winchester should take better care of his body.

Castiel cannot see into a human soul, but Hell is not a place with much patience for illusions, unless they can be used to create pain. He knows something of the soul of the Righteous Man, and he is fairly sure Dean does not appreciate that.

This is understandable. Dean is wary, as his training and his common sense tell him to be, as he should be, for after all Castiel is keeping secrets from him. It is unreasonable for him to be irritated at how this reassembled man, the component parts of which he knows so intimately, treats him like a stranger. It is not truly in Dean’s nature to be cold - even his darkest urges are fiery, as Castiel has had occasion to note - but pointing this out would probably worsen the situation. It is still a pity, though.

Dean has a great but bitter destiny, and though there is nothing Castiel can do about that, he would lessen the strain of it if he could. At night Dean struggles to relax his body, ever alert against a threat, into sleep, while at the same time fighting to keep his eyes open to avoid the terrible dreams it brings. By day, then, his judgment is clouded, his emotions heightened, his temper shortened, and Castiel wonders at the havoc this simple deprivation can wreak. If Dean would allow it, he would stand guard, so that Dean’s body at least could take its ease. Dean would not allow it, however, and it would also be difficult to justify himself to his superiors if Castiel were to try. He cannot explain that he is protecting an investment he should not have made.

Nevertheless, when he has time and solitude, Castiel tends to return to the dingy rooms Dean shares with his damned brother. He keeps himself out of sight, surveying the surface forms of Dean’s dreams from just above the dark waters of his subconscious, and when they begin to bubble and seethe, he cools them. He would do more if he could, but he cannot. He contents himself with this, and in a way it is pleasure enough in itself, to stand by and assist, even if it must be covertly. It is a fleeting thing, an interlude, and Castiel knows that soon it will come to an end. Still, he will miss it.

**Author's Note:**

> "Variations on the Word Sleep", by Margaret Atwood
> 
> I would like to watch you sleeping,  
> which may not happen.  
> I would like to watch you,  
> sleeping. I would like to sleep  
> with you, to enter  
> your sleep as its smooth dark wave  
> slides over my head
> 
> and walk with you through that lucent  
> wavering forest of bluegreen leaves  
> with its watery sun & three moons  
> towards the cave where you must descend,  
> towards your worst fear
> 
> I would like to give you the silver  
> branch, the small white flower, the one  
> word that will protect you  
> from the grief at the center  
> of your dream, from the grief  
> at the center. I would like to follow  
> you up the long stairway  
> again & become  
> the boat that would row you back  
> carefully, a flame  
> in two cupped hands  
> to where your body lies  
> beside me, and as you enter  
> it as easily as breathing in
> 
> I would like to be the air  
> that inhabits you for a moment  
> only. I would like to be that unnoticed  
> & that necessary.


End file.
